


A crisis of confidence

by Sanctitatem



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: 1800s, Drabble, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctitatem/pseuds/Sanctitatem
Summary: Only after learning heavy news, and at 1 am, would James Watson have a crisis of confidence.
A short drabble on Helen and James' reactions upon learning that John is the Ripper.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was written in answer to an ask on tumblr.  
> As always, written for fun and nothing more.  
> Thank you for reading and please leave Kudos and comments if you like it :)

Shell shocked. That was what they both were. Sitting in one of the Sanctuary’s drawing rooms at 1 am, James and Helen sat staring into the fire that was starting to die - still processing what they had learnt earlier that night. 

The identity of the Ripper.

John.

They had been working together the moment John appeared in the room with them and the truth started to uncoil itself right in front of them. Nothing seemed right any more but at the same time, it made perfect sense. The point that shocked them the most was how both of them had missed it. John had been under their noses and neither of them had suspected a thing. 

Their relationships to the man may have differed but they had both felt the same for him. The pain shattered the stillness of the night and it was by habit that they had both found themselves in front of that fire. Drinking away the memory of what John had admitted. Trying to process the unthinkable. 

“Did I not see that it was him .. intentionally? Due to who he is to you .. to us?” James’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet and timid. His confidence shaken almost to the point of breaking. Too many lives had been lost because he’d failed to see what had been right in front of him. “Did I subconsciously know it was him but ignored the obvious?”

Turning her head, looking as if James’ voice had woken her from her own doubts and worries, Helen looked at him with grief and empathy in her eyes. Having previously sat a respectable distance from her friend, she moved a little closer and reached out to touch his arm.

“No, James. This isn’t your fault. He knows how you work, how we both work. He knew where your investigations were going. It gave him the tools to evade capture. There was no way you could have known. Not even you are infallible.”

“So many deaths .. too many lives lost,” the logic of Helen’s words were lost on James that night. He only had focus for his faults. Standing, he downed his drink before throwing the glass at the fireplace - where it shattered. 

“I am responsible for that! I am better than that!” He shouted more into the heavens than at Helen. His anger abated almost as quickly as it had appeared. Shoulders slumped, he shook his head - remembering himself and his manners. “I’m sorry, Helen. That .. That was uncalled for.”

Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Helen froze - taken back to one too many times that John had lost his temper but those moments were nearly always directed at her. This was different, she tried to reason with herself. James was different. Gathering her courage, she stood and faced James. 

“It’s alright. Believe me, I understand. If ever there was a reason to lose one’s character, it would be what we have learnt tonight.” Gingerly, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Perhaps we should both retire for the night. Sleep cures all manner of ills. Even a period of self-doubt.”

James tried to muster up a smile for her but it was tense and never reached his eyes. He nodded before attempting to go over and clean up the shattered glass.

“No, you don’t,” Helen called after him. “I’ll have someone clean it up in the morning. Bed, doctor’s orders.”

Looking sheepish, James nodded once more and made his way to the door. He only turned back to face her once the door was open.

“Perhaps you’re right. His best tool has always been his mind, after all,” he said, trying to convince himself more than anything. “Goodnight, Helen.”

“Goodnight, James.”


End file.
